


Detour

by drfangirl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Switzerland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5688865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drfangirl/pseuds/drfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aftermath of the Season 2 finale...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The plane began it's gradual descent as Bedelia peered out the window into a world of snow capped mountains. Quizzically looking toward Hannibal, she attempted to guess where they were headed to. She pulled the tickets out of his suit pocket noting the stopover in Switzerland on their way to Florence. Satisfied with her answer, Bedelia sunk back into her chair, adjusting the hem of her dress. Hannibal's eyes had been boring into her since the beginning of the flight, and now, even while landing, his eyes never stopped scanning her profile, making her self conscious, a feeling she had not experienced since her teenage years. They had spoken few words since he had come to her home confessing his attempts to kill Will and Abigail and his plea for her to escape with him. Packing a suitcase, she departed with him to the airport, worried about his imminent behavior. 

"Bienvenue en Geneva," the pleasant stewardess crooned as the plane's wheels connected with the tarmac. Bedelia's icy blue eyes flitted to the snow now falling onto the jet's wings, raising an eyebrow toward Hannibal. They could not afford any delays.  
Both psychiatrists entered the busy airport, now a frenzy of angry Swiss natives and confused tourists, as the loudspeaker announced flight delays and cancellations. Crossly looking through the masses of people, Hannibal grabbed Bedelia's hand and headed toward the help desk, handing over a large chunk of euros and giving orders in rapid French to the concierge. He shrugged off his suit jacket, easing it onto Bedelia's bare arms, and they headed outside.

Mountains rushed by as their sleek rental car sped through the snow covered landscape past signs directing the drivers to Chamonix. Suddenly, turning onto a gravel path, Hannibal skillfully maneuvered the car up a narrow path clinging to the side of the mountain. The snow fell heavily and the visibility decreased. Brake screeched and the automobile stopped.

Tastefully stepping out of the car, in her leather pumps, Bedelia's eyes fell upon a massive chalet perched amongst the cliffs of the mountain. Hannibal exited the car, slamming the door, and stalked toward the house beckoning her to follow.   
Reaching for the key in a hidden location under a floorboard, Hannibal unlocked the front door of the house, letting Bedelia enter in front of him. He flicked on a nearby light switch and the chalet was bathed in a warm yellow light, as her eyes widened.  
The main room was stone, covered in rich furs, reaching toward the top level of the house. A large fireplace was positioned in a corner, a stacked pile of wood lying next to it. As Hannibal busied himself with constructing a fire, Bedelia gravitated to a panoramic window overlooking a valley below them, the window emanated cold, but the view was spectacular, though blurred by the snowfall. More lights flickered on as Hannibal departed the now blazing fire, entering the kitchen. Bedelia followed as he checked through their storage. "This is my family's hunting cabin. We are lucky it has been recently restocked."


	2. Chapter 2

After a light meal, Hannibal descended to the wine cellar to produce a bottle of Cote du Nuits, and when he returned, he found Bedelia curled up under a fur in front of the fire. She gratefully took the glass he offered her. She wrung her hands around the wine glasses' stem as Hannibal poked at the fire, and eventually settled down next to her. "If the snow does not stop soon, we will be stuck here for at least a day."  
Bedelia was nervous and impatient, for what she did not know. She had no where to be, but yet she wished they had made it to Florence. Although the chalet was beautiful, Bedelia did not feel safe with Hannibal. If he attempted to kill her, she would die.  
"Bedelia, you are shivering. Come here." Hannibal pulled her into his lap and began to rub his arms up and down hers, attempting to warm her up. 

"Why did you ask me to come with you, Hannibal?" She squirmed in his lap until she could see his face.  
"You are the only person I can trust and confide in."  
"Are you going to eat me?" Hannibal only smirked and looked at the fire. Heart pounding, Bedelia's eyes turned ice cold. "I'm leaving."

The snow lashed at Bedelia's face as she dragged the fur blanket she had taken from Hannibal's house. She was inappropriately dressed, but her train of thought was so rash, she figured she would walk in pumps as a punishment. She did not know where she was going, nor did she know where to go, but after failing to hot wire the car, she proceeded to make her way down the mountain. 

 

She awoke warm and comfortable, which immediately led her to think she was dead. Hannibal was perched in a chair next to her bed watching her. "Do not think you will get away that easily Dr. DuMaurier." Her body ached, a strange combination of cold and warm, as she examined her situation. It was still night, or at least there was no sign of sun. She was in a large flannel shirt, which meant Hannibal undressed her, and she was alive. For now. He offered her a warm drink, which she took gratefully, praying that it was not poisoned. She savored the warmth and felt instantly comfortable. Sinking back into the bed, Bedelia cocooned herself in a multitude of warm blankets, still shivering.  
"I was hoping the drink would help you. You look so cold." Hannibal sank into the bed next to her, guiding himself into the mess of blankets surrounding her. His arms surrounded her and she laid against his chest, unwillingly listening to the beating of his heart. He tilted her chin up so she could look him in his brown eyes, seemingly warmer than she ever imagined. He kissed her, sucking at her numb lips until she began to feel his mouth against hers. Her lips unthawed and a warmth spread throughout her entire body, as she melded into Hannibal's arms. Pulling away he looked at her with slightly closed lids: "are you feeling warmer?"

Hannibal awoke hours later, holding his petite, blonde psychiatrist, under a bundle of furs, in a cold house he remembered from his childhood. He had spent summers and Christmases in Switzerland and he recalled the lazy days of summer and the aroma of gingerbread. All he could smell now was smoke from the long extinguished fire and the faint smell of perfume from his psychiatrist. Hoping to fall back to sleep, he tucked his chin at the top of her head, her icy blonde hair tickling his cheek.

Bedelia woke up surprisingly warm and protected. Strong arms were wrapped around her middle and she was surrounded by her sole patient. How ironic. She was physically and metaphorically engulfed in him. The snow gently fell outside, adding to the thick blanket already covering the ground. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes again, replaying the events of the night before.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal woke up to the placid face of his psychiatrist, her piercing blue eyes staring at his countenance. He pushed a lock of hair behind Bedelia's ear, as he stared at her with equal intensity. He traced the lines on her face. The freckles. The structure of her cheekbones. Her face was almost bare of makeup. She was vulnerable, and for the first time since he knew her, he felt that he could get the chance to see her for who she truly was. "What are you thinking?'  
Lazily smirking at his eager face, Bedelia simply rolled her eyes. "I am YOUR psychiatrist Hannibal. You are not mine."  
"I was talking to you as a friend, my dear. After all we have been through, I believe we are more than just a doctor and her patient." His hand moved toward hers, under their blankets, interlocking their fingers. His thumb massaged hers and his other arm tucked around the curve of her hip and the mattress. He caressed her lower back and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of his hands. His breath warmed and tickled her face. She had not been in bed with a man for years. Her impenetrable, cold exterior was slowly melting away, turning into an excessive desire to be held, kissed, touched, loved.   
Bedelia crooned, "I am thinking that I do not ever want to leave this bed." Her lips met Hannibal's and she drank him in, soothing her feelings of doubt. Hannibal's hands dragged through her hair, traced her neck, and landed directly over her pounding heart. The tiny, yet insistent feeling of her heartbeat, left Hannibal with an unmistakable feeling of vitality and protection toward the woman now tightly pressed against his chest. For someone who exuded iciness, she was incredibly warm.

His hand moved toward the buttons on the front of her borrowed flannel shirt, exuding confidence as one button after another was freed from it's hole. Not breaking hold of her lips, tongues colliding, he managed to flick off the shirt, feeling her soft skin and delicate bones under the furs. The sensations of her lips, her skin, her warmth, the silkiness of the furs, pushed him over the edge as Hannibal flipped a heavily breathing Bedelia onto his heaving chest. He gazed at her face, swollen lips, hungry eyes. His eyes wandered down her creamy skin until he reached her breasts. She stopped him and unbuttoned his shirt and his dress pants, which he ironically had worn to bed. Her hands shook as his abs crinkled to help her peel his button down off his skin.   
"Are you nervous?" Unsure of how to answer, Bedelia scoffed at him, but her hands continued to shake. "You already know everything about me. You're just physically removing my person suit."  
"But Dr. Lecter, you do not know all of me."  
"Let me find out."


	4. Chapter 4

She laid on his chest, eyes boring into his, her lacy bra scratching his bare chest, while the fur above her rose and fell with her breathing.   
"Let me see you. All of you." His hands went to Bedelia's hips and lifted her out of the warmth of the blankets so she was straddling his chest. He traced the contours of her bare torso, until he landed on a scar spanning from her hip to under her breast. His index finger followed the line, sending a shiver down her spine. "Where did you get this?" Her thigh muscles tightened around Hannibal's waist as her lips met his. Breathily, she murmured, "falling in love with a patient is a bad idea." Her mind flashed back to the dark room, the knife, the silk sheets, the last man she had slept with. Her heart rate sped up as she mentally tried to force the sensation of such pain being inflicted, the knife being drawn up her skin, scraping her ribs.

Falling off his chest, she rolled onto her side, re-submerging herself in the furs, trying to silence the dark thoughts and memories rushing through her mind. "Bedelia?" Hannibal rolled onto his side, and stroked her cheek, soothing her jittery muscles. Knowing not to pry any further, his hands danced toward her bra, effortlessly unhooking it and flinging it off the bed. Her breasts were as beautiful as he imagined and he traced their outline, forcing Bedelia's mind from fear to lust, propelling her into the present moment. Her hands grasped Hannibal's hair as he buried his face in her chest, kissing every inch of her skin. He stopped at the waistband of her underwear, his eyes gazing into the blue portals of her soul, as she consented for him to continue. He peeled off her last item of clothing until she lay naked beside him. He gazed over her body, studying every curve and line. Drinking her in, while she blushed at the intensity of his stare. Her hands met his chest and she traced his torso muscles down to his pants, unbuttoned but not yet removed, as he propped himself up and she pulled them off, leaving a pair of tenting boxers. Hungrily and smugly she traced his erection through his silk undergarments, which elicited a deep moan. She pulled down his boxers and pushed him into her, both tensing at the contact. She slowly moved her pelvis up and down, savoring the fullness, the idea that she could enjoy physical pleasure after years without it.


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal immediately reacted to the actions of the woman next to him, rolling on top of her and grinding his pelvis into her hips. He began to increase his speed and her moans increased until they turned to screams. Her one hand was positioned at the small of his back, rubbing encouraging, pressurized circles, into his skin, while the other reached down to fondle him as he retreated out of her. Hannibal had not been with a woman for years, his lust for the physicality of the human body had strayed from sex to blood, and his aversion to emotions prevented him from giving himself up to another human. His mind snapped back to Bedelia as her nails stabbed into his back. He was having sex with his psychiatrist.

Bedelia was extremely close, her body zinging with the intense effects of Hannibal's constant penetration, but her feelings of lust quickly turned to fear. She had given herself up to the man she had vowed never to reveal any information to. He was dangerous and he was physically and mentally inside of her. His head crashed into her collarbones as he released into her, her hands stroking his hair. Although close behind, she had not climaxed and she ground her hips into Hannibal's, moving his hands to her juncture. He picked up on her actions and massaged her tender folds, eliciting a whimper from the tight mouth of his psychiatrist turned lover. With a shaky breath, Bedelia orgasmed and her arms limply fell to her sides. Hannibal pulled off of her, stroking her scar before he retreated to his side of the bed. He was overcome by fatigue and quickly fell asleep as Bedelia sadly turned to the snow falling outside. She felt infiltrated. Dirtied. She scolded herself for the lack of self control she had just demonstrated and escaped from under the furs Hannibal had wrapped around her before he dozed off. Picking up his shirt, she wrapped herself in the fabric, and shakily stood up, already sore from their sexual endeavor. Wandering into the bathroom, Bedelia relieved herself and began to fill up his black marble bathtub. Perched at the edge of the tub, the cold marble pierced her hot, sticky skin as her mind raced. Would this change their relationship? Obviously he would no longer look at her as his psychiatrist. She wanted to leave. She needed to leave. Her worry was overcome by the sensation. The sex was great. He was great. She finally felt content and satisfied. She was at peace...?

Hannibal rolled over, expecting to crash into Bedelia, but abruptly opened his eyes to an empty bed and cold sheets. Worriedly sitting up, he looked around the room. Had she tried to leave? She would not be foolish enough to do so. He laid back down on the pillow, his mind darting to the sensations of Bedelia's body. The smoothness. The taste. Her moans. He wanted to make love to her again and again. He never wanted to leave this bed if she was in it. His hand absentmindedly stroked his burgeoning erection as he heard a splash come from the bathroom. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he pulled on his pants, uncomfortably re-arranging his arousal so she would not see. He knocked on the door, "Bedelia?"  
Taking a deep breath, she responded, "Yes?"

He opened the door. He needed to see her again. As the door creaked open, she curled up in a ball concealing her body from him. "Do you need something?" Slightly taken aback, he perched on the vanity. "How are you?" Rolling her eyes, the sickness in her stomach attempted to escape, but she quickly swallowed and responded, "I'm fine." Skeptically, Hannibal left the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him. She initiated the sex so obviously she felt something. He was surprised at how quickly his body, and his mind responded to her touch, and now he seemed obsessed with her. The feelings he developed had taken him over.

Although she was guilty, Bedelia justified her behavior, cursing herself out for initiating the sex. How could she have been so stupid? As soon as the snow stopped, she was going to leave and catch the quickest flight home. He was messing with her mind.


	6. Chapter 6

While Hannibal prepared two mugs of bitter coffee, he stared out the window at the snow that had ceased to fall, the ground smothered in a still blanket of white. He could leave with Bedelia today. The airport would be re-opened. However, he did not want to leave. Not yet. 

Gently pushing the bathroom door open, hot coffee sloshed over his hand, as Bedelia emerged from the bathtub, wrapping a towel around her small frame. She plucked a mug from his hand, and took a deep sip, her throat contracting as the sharp, unsweetened beverage was swallowed. A bitter taste remained in her mouth, a simple reminder of what she had done. Hannibal watched her from the frame of the bathroom door as she deliberated whether or not to talk to him. "Hannibal?"  
"Yes?"  
"When can we return to the airport?"  
"Possibly tomorrow or the day after."  
She pondered his answer, her eyes narrowing at the fact that he did not suggest leaving within the next few hours.  
"What do you plan to do with me? If you want to eat me, do it now."  
"Oh Bedelia, no one can order me to eat them. I want you to come to Florence with me."  
"Why should I?"  
He continued to look at her, his brown eyes boring into her frail frame. She felt the intensity of his stare, boring into her, seeing her entirety.  
"You are here, are you not?"  
She took a deep, shuddering breath as her bright eyes darkened in anger. "What is stopping me from leaving?"  
"You are too practical to leave. You know you will not survive. The snow is deep. You do not have the proper clothing. Where would you go? It will be dark soon. There are wolves."  
"The wolves are in here Hannibal, not out there. I would be safer outside." She proceeded to the closet, picked through the warm clothing items stored inside, and whipped off her towel, pulling a shirt over her naked body, instantly arousing Hannibal. She tossed the towel carelessly onto the floor, cupped her mug of coffee, and headed toward the kitchen. Hannibal followed in her wake, unable to ignore the slight sway in her hips and the bouncing of her matted curls. She plucked a blanket off of the floor, wrapped it around her shoulders, and proceeded to open the door to the back balcony. "Please do not follow me."


	7. Chapter 7

The cold air stung her hot cheeks as she sat on worn wood of the chalet's overhang, enveloped in a blanket. Wolves howled as the sun sank below the horizon, her blues eyes adjusting to the dimming light. She knew he was watching her from inside the house. Although her eyes burned and her mind raced, she could not let Hannibal see her physically react. Her body ached, she was freezing, her eyes fluttered in an attempt to prevent tears from falling. She scolded herself for being so emotional, a reaction to sexually produced endorphins and an ill adjustment to the time change. However, to her, it was a sign of weakness and emotional penetration she was uncomfortable with. 

Hannibal kept his eyes fixed on Bedelia, restraining his urge to go to her. She could stay outside as long as she wanted. He did not care. But, he did care. Pacing back and forth, he deliberated how to handle Bedelia. His experience with women and their emotions was limited. He had always preferred the simplicity, the compartmentalizing aspect of the male mind, which he knew Bedelia did not possess. Although he had witnessed few of her emotions, she was thoroughly shaken, after he saved her from the patient who sent her into "retirement." She had possessed the same shaky, terrified expression today. He had re-entered the bedroom, picking up her damp towel from the floor, and carefully hanging it on the bathroom door, deciding to repair his relationship with his psychiatrist. She had spent enough time outside and he needed her to stay.

His shadowy body folded next to hers, his large arm, wrapped around her dainty shoulders. Bedelia continued to look out at the landscape, avoiding his confrontational face. He blew warm air onto her neck and when she did not respond, he pulled her into his lap, amidst her squirming against him. She began to sob and he stroked her hair, which smelled undeniably like expensive perfume and wintery Swiss air. Her sobs ceased as she attempted to pull herself together, wiping her eyes and nose in Hannibal's shoulder. She noticed his smile, unlike any she had seen before, tinged with care, appreciation, and...love? Her heart began to pound out of fear, and she closed her eyes, deeply inhaling and exhaling, attempting to calm the fear clouding her mind. Her hand searched for his, and she found it, lacing his fingers into hers, and pressing their conjoined fist to her pounding heart. "Take me inside, Hannibal."  
He lifted her up into his arms, making sure she was still surrounded by a blanket, and proceeded indoors. Placing her down on the leather couch in the living room, his hand accidentally grazed her breast, causing her nipple to strain against the material of her shirt. Gulping, he turned away, lightheaded due to his rapid erection. Her hand reached for his again and stroked his forearm, beckoning him to sit next to her. Unable to hide his straining erection, he turned toward Bedelia, whose eyes confirmed his arousal, and seated himself a slight distance from her. She extended her legs onto his, her foot "accidentally" touching his erection, causing him to clench and release his fist, attempting to hide her effect on him. She gave him a watery, knowing smile, though her mind was racing. The more they made love, the longer she would stay alive. She just had to dissociate her feelings from the physicality. That would be easy...wouldn't it?


	8. Chapter 8

He knew her motives were duplicitous, but he could play along. She slithered into his lap, straddling his thighs as she kissed him, nipping at his lips, ramming her tongue into his mouth. Aggressively she dug her nails into his shoulders, causing him bite her lip, drawing blood. As she sucked on her now swollen lips, he ripped off her shirt, forcefully kneading her breasts under his palms. He laid her down on the couch, and positioned himself over her, swiftly unveiling his erection. He rammed himself into her softness, eliciting a shocked scream. He continued to drive into her, crashing into her pelvis, his hands grabbing and bruising her skin. Her uneven breaths and look of subdued horror, her pale skin blooming with purple splotches, caused him to abruptly pull out of her and head toward the bedroom. She lay on the floor, regaining control of her breaths, in a fog of confusion. Should she follow him?

He paced in the room. He desired this woman. She was his asset, the subject of his never ending fascination. She was playing him and he was letting her. He laid on the bed, his head pounding, as a strong hand pushed him onto the bed and grasped his erection. Her eyes were dark blue and vicious as she impaled herself with him, forcefully moving up and down. Her nails cut into his chest, leaving streaks of red skin, as her walls began to clutch around him. She orgasmed and fell off of him, leaving the bed, and heading toward the bathroom. Seemingly attached to her, his body moved automatically to follow her. She was rinsing her face off in the sink, water rivulets siphoning from her matted curls. His turgid erection rubbed against her, and she reached a manicured nail to its tip. The contrast in textures and temperatures sent a greater throbbing to his member, as she rammed it into the marble of the vanity, cold streaking through his entire body. Before she could leave, he grabbed her arm, and slammed his erection into her center, her body quivering with the cold and hot sensations. She moaned and he released into her, satisfyingly yanking at her hair.

She gave him a disgusted look as she pulled away from their obvious sexual imitation of a power struggle. He looked into her eyes, and caressed her cheek. "We are equals Bedelia." Anger rushing through her veins, she pulled away from him, unable to retaliate, in fear of the consequences. She was nothing like him. "We are leaving for Florence tomorrow morning."

She entered the chalet's foyer and rifled through her purse where she found her objects of desire. She loaded a syringe and stabbed it into a pulsing vein, wincing at the sharp sensation. When the syringe was emptied, she gently hid it in her purse, where she had stored an illegal amount of psychotropic drugs. She needed an alibi, a way to outsmart the man she had just laid down next to.  
His arms wrapped around her, attempting to keep her warm, as the wolves howled outside.


End file.
